Here Comes the Sun
by AllIsWell
Summary: Draco is imprisoned in his own mansion during the Final Battle in DH. Can anyone save him?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello there :) Thank you for taking the time to read my first story EVER! Comments, critiques, anything is welcome- let me know what you think!

Everything recognizable belongs to the master, JK Rowling. I'm blessed to even be able to borrow her characters for a little while.

Enjoy!

Chapter One: Flight of the Dragon

It was dark. A lone torch burned near the door to the cellar, so that the prisoner could barely see the light from where he slumped, iron manacles anchored to the wall. His chin rested upon his chest, which was marked with scars, flecked with blood. Bruises and cuts mottled his pale skin, telling a story of torture and pain.

The small window above his head let in the chill early morning air; wearing only a ripped pair of trousers, the young man was shivering in the breeze, his cracked and bleeding lips trembling. He must be getting sick; how many days had it been since he had been dragged down here? Far too long, in his opinion.

The cellar of Malfoy Manor had been converted into a dungeon, Lucius Malfoy's very own house of horrors. Weapons hung against one wall in a wooden case, padlocked and charmed to open only when the key was used. A medieval torture rack stood in one corner, a heavy wooden table with chains jutting out from the floor at both ends. The cell housing the prisoner was down a short hallway, the first of three cells. The other two were empty.

As the final days began before the battle at Hogwarts, the other prisoners had been killed. Only one remained; this young man, bound and tortured for weeks for his disservice to the Dark Lord. He had failed, and he had felt Voldemort's displeasure. Failure was not an option, and for his mistake he would be killed, but not before the Death Eaters had a little fun with him. Torture was a favorite pastime with the Dark Lord and his followers

His head still bowed, he moved his hand to rest gingerly on his opposite shoulder, which was hanging a bit awkwardly. Grimacing, he pushed it back into place, biting his lip to keep from crying out. The clinking of the chains was the only sound in the silence; the sound was the first he had heard in a while, and the noise was almost startling in the gloom.

"I am going to die." The words came out rusty, his voice so hoarse from screaming. How long had he been down here, waiting for him to come back, to end this poor excuse of a life? At first he fought, refusing to believe this was how it would end, but as time passed, and each day became harder and more painful, he stopped believing everything would be okay.

The end was near; there was no reason to deny it any longer. And what was he dying for? A mistake he made, for a cause he was forced into following. The Malfoys had always dabbled in the Dark Arts, and were expected to be involved in Voldemort's return to power.

Draco had failed. He had been terrified, a mere child, dragged into the plot to kill one of the most famous wizards of all time. He had balked. Hid in bathrooms, confided in a gloomy ghost, and tried his hardest to fail at this assignment. This boy did not want to be a man just yet. His entire life had been pretending to be something he wasn't, and something he wasn't ready to be.

As if he had a choice in the matter.

Draco Malfoy has no dummy; he knew the Dark Lord was furious at his father's decimation of his plan in obtaining the prophecy, and Draco had been given an impossible task. He had been chosen to die from the moment Lucius had screwed up. Voldemort didn't take lightly to mistakes or failures.

Footsteps could be heard on the stairs, and Draco closed his swollen gray eyes slowly. Was this it? Was this the moment of his death? He heard the door creak open, and footsteps heading towards him, echoing off the walls of the hallway. He heard a laugh and opened a blackened eye.

There stood his own father, laughing at his son. He looked tired- dark circles under his eyes, which were alight with a manic look. His robes were shabby, torn at the ends, and there was a bruise on Lucius' cheek. He looked like a shark on the scent of blood.

"Father." He voice sounded weak to his own ears; must his father hear that weakness? He was just so tired, so worn, that he couldn't hide the defeat in his voice any longer.

Lucius smirked, his eyes flashing in the dim light. "Hello, Draco. I must tell you, I'm surprised to see you've lasted this long." He picked at his nails for a moment before continuing.

"Your Aunt Bella must be losing her touch. She used to be the best with prisoners." His eyes flashed to his son once more. "I have been very disappointed in you, Draco. You failed me and you failed your mother. You do not deserve the name Malfoy. If you were to live past this day I would disown you, but since it is your last, I will merely say goodbye. Your aunt shall be down soon to finish you before we leave for the final battle. The Dark Lord will have his victory tonight!"

He smirked, and Draco felt ill. "The end is near, my boy. It is too bad you won't get to see the downfall of Harry Potter, and the deaths of those blood traitors the Weasleys."

"I will be glad to miss it, Father. I never wanted a part of this." Draco wet his lips, his tongue running over the cracked and bleeding skin.

He heard more footsteps, and fought his weak body to stand, forcing his long limbs to obey. His legs shook at the strength it took to hold himself upright- the Cruciatus curse had done the most damage; it has sapped all of his power and left him limp and trembling.

Lucius smiled in a twisted way. He looked forward to his only son in agony. "And here she is, Draco. Have a pleasant evening." He laughed, as if he had made some funny joke.

Draco could hear his aunt approaching, muttering something under her breath. As she rounded the corner, her face lit up at the sight of him- _must be the blood and bruises_ he thought, narrowing his eyes at her gaze.

"Draco, darling." She smirked, her eyes following his body. He felt violated; what kind of a family does this to their own?

A crazy family, one that's completely ensnared in a mad half-human's plot to take over the Wizarding world and kill everyone he deems unworthy. Voldemort was a half-blood himself; Voldemort is a hypocrite, in Draco's opinion. Power-hungry; his followers were Purebloods, so he used the very ideals that they whispered behind their hands to each other to lure them into his service.

Bellatrix opened the cell and walked slowly over to Draco, her heavy lidded eyes watching him closely. She reminded him of a tiger, stalking her prey. "Drakey poo," she murmured, "I've got a surprise for you." She turned to Lucius, who was watching fervently, his eyes alight. "Leave us, Lucius. You'll only be in the way."

Lucius turned to glare at his sister-in-law, and reluctantly turned to go. He shut the cell, giving Draco one last look. "Your mother sends her love, son. Goodbye."

And with that, Draco was left alone with his aunt, who was hungry for bloodlust.

"Get it over with, Aunt Bella." His voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears. Bellatrix laughed, her voice echoing on the cold stone walls. "Oh, dear boy, this will be enjoyable for me, and agony, I am sure, for you." She grinned eagerly. "It's not very often one gets to kill one's own family, and I sure have gotten lucky."

She pulled out her wand, caressing it with her fingers like a long lost friend. She turned her eyes to Draco, who was watching without comment. With a determined look on her face, she said, "The goal, dear boy, is to get you to cry out as many times as I possibly can." Cocking her head to one side, she met his eyes.

"_Crucio_!"

* * *

Draco was floating. He felt nothing, and from afar could hear his aunt screaming with anger. Had he cried out? He had tried so very hard not to, but with all the curses cast at him, he couldn't remember. How long had this agony been going on? He prayed for the end to come quickly; he didn't think he could take much more.

He refused to make a sound. Part of him wanted to beg for her to stop, for her to just kill him. _Get it over with!_ his mind screamed as pain wracked his thin body. Living had become too difficult; all he wanted was a reprieve from the ache he couldn't get rid of.

Draco held on to his pride, the only thing he had left. That part of him that reminded him of his lineage refused to allow him to give in. _It will soon stop_ it whispered to him, _don't give up._

Suddenly, Draco felt nothing. The pain had left, only the aftershocks lingering. His mind could not understand what would have made his psychotic aunt stop torturing him.

Was this was death felt like?

He had always been told there would be no pain, but maybe the stories weren't true; after all, the ones who informed him on death were not dead yet.

Bellatrix was oddly silent. He could hear noises, but as if they were fuzzy; a side effect from the curses, no doubt. He lay there like a rag doll, unable to move even if he wanted to. Maybe she had stopped, so as to surprise him with the next curse. She did say she would try to get him to scream as much as she could, and Bella was a professional when it came to inflicting pain and death.

The wait made him tense; he just wanted it to end. _Finish me off!_ his mind screamed, starting to become weary of waiting. With the risk in mind, Draco cracked open an eye to take him the room around him. Bella was in the hallway, scuffling with someone. He heard a muttered spell and his aunt gasped, became stiff as a board and collapsed. And that is when he saw his savior.

He had never thought anyone would risk searching for him, especially after his attempt (albeit, botched attempt) to kill Dumbledore the previous year. He especially didn't expect to see his bushy-haired savior with a gash in her cheek, mouth set in a fierce line.

Hermione Granger stood there, her wand still raised, and Draco could feel his heart skip a beat. She had saved him. This girl, who he had ridiculed and harassed for six years at Hogwarts, had braved the Manor where she had been tortured before his very eyes not too long ago to save _him_.

She took his breath away. Involuntarily a thought came unbidden to his mind: _she is like an angel_.

As their eyes met, cinnamon brown and stormy gray, Draco felt his body give in. He let out a cry and fainted from exhaustion as he heard her call his name.

"Draco!"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: SO SORRY it took this long to upload- life has been crazy! Here is short chapter two- let me know what you think!

Also, I own nothing- it belongs to the lovely JKR! Enjoy!

Chapter Two: Angel Revealed

Before Draco opened his eyes he knew he was somewhere else aside from the dungeon cellar of Malfoy Manor. His body ached, but not like it should have; it felt as if the many curses fired at him, as well as the numerous cuts and bruises that covered his body had never happened. Experimentally he flexed the fingers of his right hand, where he could remember a nasty tearing feeling when Bellatrix had been destroying him, and felt nothing out of the ordinary.

Surprised, he opened his eyes slowly and saw a dark wood fan spinning over his head in a lazy way, light peeking its way through closed curtains on the other side of the room. The walls were white, and the wall he could see the clearest was covered in a dark bookcase full of tomes; old ones, new ones, glossy covers, leather covers, some with worn spines, some looking as if they had been through everything, their covers hanging on by a thread. He noticed the door was almost shut, and a low murmur could be heard on the other side of the white wood.

He held his hands up to look at the bandages wrapped around the palm of the one on the right. Whoever had wrapped it had done a good job; maybe a healer had wrapped it? He attempted to sit up, slowly pushing himself upwards until he could rest his back against the wall beside the bed. A little dizzy, he closed his eyes to regain balance.

Slowly he opened his eyes, and let his gaze fall on his chest. No open wounds, just a few small bruises that were turning yellow and green as they healed. There was a lot of new skin, pink scars formed over the wounds he had sustained in his own home. The time in the dungeon had been vague, filled only with pain upon wave of pain. He had not received food, only water occasionally.

How long had he been down there? He couldn't remember; time had been fleeting. Days ran together, the only thing connecting them was the ache in his bones and the always-present threat of torture. Voldemort's minions loved a good time, especially with a prisoner.

Draco shuddered as he remembered the few times he had been aware. Those times, few and far between, always brought the emotion of fear and disgust; he wished his mind had never had the chance to be aware. Draco had a sneaking suspicion his father or aunt had given him a Pepper-Up potion at those times, so he could scream as he was violated over and over, tortured by many different methods.

He desperately wanted to find out what happened; he couldn't remember anything except hearing his name. Something tickled the back of his mind. Draco knew the voice had been familiar, but he couldn't place where he had heard it before.

He ran a hand through his hair, which was clean, he noticed. Someone had washed him, at least with a cleansing charm. He was grateful, but still had the urge to scrub his skin raw until it bled to rid himself of the filth he still felt on him. Shuddering again, Draco stood, and clenched his eyes closed as his vision swam. "Too quickly," he muttered as he toppled sideways, falling onto the soft carpet at his feet.

Suddenly he felt a slim hand wrap around his arm and help steady him. His eyes snapped open to look at the hand as his body rebelled violently against it. It was pale, with a light dusting of freckles that traveled up the slim arm attached. Another hand came up to touch his face, even softer than the hand on his arm. Draco flinched away, and the hand pulled back quickly.

"Draco, it's okay. You're safe." There was that voice again. The same one that had called to him as he passed out in the dungeons: the voice of his savior.

He looked up into warm cinnamon brown eyes, concern clearly visible. Suddenly it clicked; the voice was that of Hermione Granger, Gryffindor know-it-all, member of the Golden Trio, childhood enemy.

She had saved him.

White heat suddenly blinded him and he closed his eyes, hoping to blink it away. He slowly moved away, his whole body trembling. Why? Why had she saved him, this girl he had tormented for years? He had called her horrible names, laughed at her and her friends, and she had rescued him from his father.

It was incomprehensible to him.

"Why?"

Hermione saw the wall go up in his eyes; they became hard, a flat gray. He became that boy from school, the bully that made her life a living hell for the past six years.

She knew what he was asking. What had propelled her to save him? She remembered him, chained to the wall, lying in a bloody heap, oh, so much blood. Bellatrix had certainly tried her hardest, and had a lot of fun in doing so. Draco had been white hair surrounded by a pool of darkest red; her heart had broken at the sight of him.

"I couldn't just leave you, Draco." She shook her head, brown curls flying. "If you could have seen yourself, the way Bellatrix had broken you…" her voice faded, and Draco watched as she wiped a tear from her cheek.

"But you hate me." His voice sounded rusty, even to his own ears. How long had it been since he had last used his voice?

Hermione smiled sadly. "No, I never did hate you. You were cruel, but I always gave you the benefit of the doubt." She glanced at him. "I never liked you." She amended, shrugging her shoulders, as if to say _can you blame me?_

Draco brought his hand up to swipe at his hair out of his eyes. This was an alternate universe, it must be; in what world does Hermione Granger save her arch enemy, and then profess she had never hated him, merely disliked him? At that moment, his stomach took the silence as a good time to let its presence be known.

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "You must be hungry."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well spotted, Granger, what gave it away?" he said loftily.

Her eyes narrowed, but she stood and started heading towards the door. "I'll go grab you something to eat." She swung the door shut as she left.

Draco sighed. She was being nice. Why did he have to go and try to get a rise out of her? He should be thanking her, grabbing onto the legs of her jeans and crying piteously. He was grateful, very grateful; where would he be without Hermione Granger?

Still in his father's house, being tortured to death. Or, maybe he would have already been dead.

No doubt about it, Draco Malfoy was in Hermione Granger's debt. He was thankful she saved him, but he was too proud to tell her this. Well, the old Draco Malfoy would have been- maybe now was the time to turn over a new leaf?

He snapped back to attention as the door opened, flinching instinctively. Hermione froze, a tray of food in her hands. Brown met gray, and she slowly edged into the room. "Here is some food." She said it softly, as if speaking to a rabid animal that had been backed into a corner. She knelt five feet from him, and slowly pushed the tray over to him. Her eyes were watching passively, and Draco slowly moved his arm to reach for the tray. There was pasta and some crackers, and a small fizzy drink.

"I didn't want to give you too much, just in case your body rejected it." Her voice was quiet, almost uncertain; she didn't want to upset him.

"Thank you." He looked up to meet her eyes. "For everything."

Her eyes widened, and a small smile lit up her face. Draco had to acknowledge how pretty she was- she had certainly grown into those curls, and her eyes seemed so bright.

His eyes moved back down to the food, and slowly he began to eat. It tasted wonderful, the best food he could ever remember eating.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hello, all! Thank you to all the reviews- I've never written a story before, and five reviews is a good start! I hope you enjoy this chapter- yes, two in one day! I feel terrible about the time it took to upload chapter two, so here is chapter three! This won't be a long story, but I don't want to push Draco and Hermione into a relationship sooner than they would allow. Meh, you know what I mean! Plus, it will be worth the wait :)

JKR owns EVERYTHING- I am merely a poor student, writing to relieve stress. :)

Chapter Three- The Space Between

Hermione rubbed her temples as she paused in her reading. Curled up on the couch with a blanket thrown over her legs, she had immersed herself into the world of Charlotte Bronte with a hot cup of tea after leaving Draco to rest. She closed her eyes briefly and leaned her head against the back of the couch, letting out a soft sigh.

How things had changed. The war was over, and Voldemort was defeated. They were finally free from the fear that had gripped the Wizarding World for so long. So many sleepless nights, so many near-death experiences, so many deaths…

The faces passed before her mind's eye- Fred, Mad-Eye Moody, Remus, Tonks, Colin Creevey, his body small in death. Lavender had been bitten by Fenrir Greyback, her body broken and still in a coma in St. Mungos; they had yet to see if she would change into a werewolf or not.

Hermione's eyes filled at the thought of Dean Thomas, his head in his hands, sobbing as his girlfriend lay still in her hospital bed, wrapped in bandages, the blood still seeping through the gauze. Her heart ached for little Teddy Lupin, who would never know his own parents. Just like Harry…

Harry was finally free. He was free to love Ginny as he always had, free to live his life without the constant threat of the Dark Lord hovering over his head. He was truly the Boy Who Lived, and he was the hero of the Wizarding World. Ron, who was finally getting some of his own fame, was finally feeling appreciated and important. Harry couldn't have done it without him, and Hermione, but she didn't want the credit, or the attention.

The world was starting to heal, albeit slowly. The Weasleys were in shambles; Molly spent most of her time crying, distraught over the loss of her son and the sudden return of another. Percy was also upset; he had been with Fred when he had died.

George was a wreck, and in the weeks since the Final Battle he hadn't gotten out of his bed, just lay there, staring unseeingly at a picture of the him and his twin, their arms around each other, grinning and waving. Ginny was quiet, a steel heart in her chest. She had not cried for her brother's death, and Hermione and Harry were waiting for the explosion.

Ron had wept and grieved, and was slowly beginning to show signs of improvement.

Hermione had sent for her parents in Australia, and set their memories straight. They had helped her set up an apartment ten miles from their home outside of London, and she was currently laying low, planning on getting a job soon. Everything was working out.

She glanced at the bedroom door that stood ajar on the other side of the living room. Then Draco Malfoy had fallen into her lap. The day after the Final Battle, the Order, along with Harry and Hermione, had raided Malfoy Manor, and discovered Bellatrix- who had been conspicuously absent from the fight the day earlier- had been torturing her nephew to death. The image was vividly imprinted on her mind's eye forever; Draco had been laying there, in a pool of blood, foaming at the mouth, his eyes vacant as his body was wracked with pain. He had been raped, beaten, and burned. His silver hair was dark with blood, and a keening noise had escaped his cracked lips as Hermione had hurried over to him, her heart breaking.

No one deserved that torture- not even Draco Malfoy.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she remembered. The Order had housed Draco at headquarters, Hermione keeping a watchful eye on the broken boy. He had slept for three weeks, as his wounds slowly healed. Hermione stretched his legs and arms to keep him from getting bedsores, and spoke softly to him, willing him to open his eyes, but he never did.

Harry had suggested she take him to her apartment. She had agreed, and had housed the sleeping boy for two weeks, before his sudden awakening today. He had seemed different at first, vulnerable. The war had taken a lot out of him, too.

He was thin, too thin. His ribs jutted out from his pale skin, and his eyes held a haunted look. He had put the wall back up, of course, upon realizing Hermione Granger had saved his life. It hurt her, in a way- after everything they had been through, childhood grudges could hold strong, even as the entire world changed.

Draco was free of charges; his aunt made it clear he was nothing but a disgrace to the Dark Lord, and that he had not killed Dumbledore.

Hermione had been at her trial, had watched Bellatrix receive the kiss, the Dementor sucking her soul out, caressing her face with its skeleton hands.

How Bellatrix had screamed.

Harry had been grim with satisfaction; the death of his godfather was still fresh, even two years later. Bellatrix embodied evil for Harry- the deaths of everyone he loved were avenged in the death of Sirius's cousin. Justice was served.

Hermione startled as she heard a hoarse yell, throwing her book on the floor and running towards Draco's room, her want held at the ready. She burst through the door, ready to hex anything that moved, when she saw Draco thrashing on his bed, back against the wall, flailing wildly.

Flicking the lights on, she gripped his wrists, trying to calm him. His eyes were wide, unseeing. "No, no no, not this, anything but this!" he whispered frantically, trembling violently.

"Draco! Can you hear me? Draco, it's Hermione, you're safe, remember?" she tried to explain, but he acted as if he never heard her. She freed one wrist and he started flailing again, catching her lip and smacking her pretty hard.

Hermione's head snapped to the left, her eyes wide with pain. She felt her lip with her tongue, felt the blood already gathering there. She lifted her hand and placed it on his face, and immediately he calmed, his eyes blinking slowly, gradually focusing on her face.

"Draco, can you hear me?" she whispered, her thumb stroking his face softly. He nodded, gray eyes finally seeing her. "Granger?" he sounded confused.

She nodded. "Hi, Draco. You're in my apartment, remember? You woke up earlier today, but have been sleeping for five weeks. We rescued you from your aunt, remember?"

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "I was sure I was going to die." His voice was soft, and Hermione had to strain to hear him. Her eyes ached with emotion; the urge was strong to cry, but she held it in check. This was the real Draco, not that tough bully in school. She wanted to hold onto him as long as she could.

"You're safe now. I've got you." She whispered this, her thumb still stroking his face. He blinked, and really saw her. He frowned when he saw her lip.

"You're bleeding." He moved his hand and wiped the thin trail of blood off of her chin.

"I'm fine. It doesn't even hurt." She lied as her lip began to throb harder.

His eyes became unfocused again at the sight of blood on his fingers. He abruptly pulled away from Hermione, his face a cold mask, wrapping an arm around his thin body.

"Don't ask me about it. I never want to talk about it." His voice was firm, sharp, reverting back to the Draco Malfoy of old. He transformed back into the rude pompous slime ball he used to be. He turned back to eye her disdainfully.

"Regardless, I wouldn't want to talk to some lowly Mudblood like you." He sniffed. "I have friends for that."

Hermione froze as the slur crossed his lips. Mudblood, her favorite word. She was surprised at how hurtful it was, even though she had been hearing it for years. The naïve little girl that still resided in a small part of her brain had hoped that after saving his life, Draco Malfoy would leave that insult in the past, where it belonged.

After all the evil she had seen, being degraded still broke her heart.

She stood quickly, heading for the door as he finished speaking. She paused and turned back, one hand on the doorframe, the other on the doorknob. "For your information, Malfoy, all of your friends were either killed in battle, convicted and sentenced to life in Azkaban, of given the kiss." Her eyes were hard, cloudy with tears. "And don't worry, this _Mudblood_ wouldn't ask you anything, anyway."

She slammed the door behind her, so hard the room shook.

Draco stood and crossed to the window, staring out at the starless sky. All his friends were dead or imprisoned? Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Zabini…

He honestly felt nothing; friends were merely pawns to advance your standing in life. Pureblooded wizards had friends to get them further in life, that was it. What else were friends good for, other than that?

These thoughts brought him to his father and mother. Narcissa was probably fine, enjoying the air and shopping in France while Lucius rotted away in Azkaban. Or had he received the kiss from the Dementors? He had already escaped them once; Draco doubted he would have been given a second chance. Good riddance, in his opinion.

Who did he have left? Draco realized he was alone in the world.

This thought brought a strange feeling to his stomach. It was heavy and uncomfortable, and it increased when he thought of how he had just spoken to Hermione Granger, who had gone out of her way to save his life. Was this guilt? Was he remorseful for the pain he had just caused her?

He had seen the way her eyes had emptied, and the hurt had filled them, for only a second, before they turned into liquid amber. There had been fire in them.

He had said the words to hurt her; he had meant to cause pain. Who did she think she was, saving him? Did she expect him to spill his guts? He didn't owe her that! He owed her nothing!

Draco slammed his fist into the wall, breathing harshly.

It was a lie. A damned lie. He owed Hermione Granger everything, and he hated it. How could he owe a muggleborn, a _girl_, the best friend of the Boy Who Wouldn't Die. He was in her debt, and sadly, being a jackass couldn't change that.

His pride couldn't bring him to admit it to himself. His apology earlier had nothing to do with pride; it had been a reaction, to find out he wasn't dead. He had been shocked with the identity of his hero and that had made him utter those words forbidden to a Malfoy.

He was restless. He crossed the room in three long strides, dressed in only in loose fitting shorts, and wrenched the door open.

The apartment was silent, and dark. There was a light on to the left of his door, and Draco glanced towards it, taking in the small kitchen, and the living room he had walked into. There was a couch and an armchair, two lamps, and an entertainment center with a small telefision (at least, that's what Draco thought it was called). Pictures covered the walls, photos of Harry and Ron, waving, stills of her parents, he assumed (a rather round man and a thin woman with thick curls), and other people that were important in Hermione's life.

There were two doors down a small hallway to the right of the living room. One was a small bathroom; it was clean, a toothbrush and bottle of lotion the only things on the counter. The other door was shut, and Draco assumed it was Hermione's bedroom. He turned the knob, for curiosity's sake, and was mildly surprised when it swung open silently.

The room was dark, faint moonlight hitting the foot of the bed. She was curled up in the middle of it, surrounded by covers, her curly hair splayed on the pillow next to her. Her face was relaxed and peaceful in the dim light. She looked so small, lying there. Draco felt a strange tug in his chest, almost like a muscle twinge.

He stared at her, surprised at how calm he suddenly felt. What was this? He felt strange; Draco Malfoy wasn't one for emotions, and suddenly he was having all these _feelings_. Feelings were for the weak, his father had always said.

And look where that got him.

"What are you doing in here, Malfoy?" Her voice was loud in the silence. He jumped at the sound, and felt his face flush. _Malfoys don't blush!_ His mind screamed.

"What, worried I'd murder you in your sleep, Granger?" at least he sounded normal.

She snorted and rolled over, propping her head on her arm. Her eyes were steady, meeting his unwaveringly. "The thought never crossed my mind, Malfoy. I'm sure you used to have servants to do that for you. Without them, you wouldn't know how to kill. Plus, you have no wand."

He rolled his eyes. "Good reasoning, Gryffindork."

She sat up and glared. "If you have something important to say, then say it. Otherwise, get the hell out of here, or I will lock you in your bedroom." She raised an eyebrow.

Draco was struck dumb for a second. Her hair was flowing around her head in waves, the curls cascading over one shoulder. Her eyes were amber in the darkness, for some reason clearly visible in the faint light. Her mouth was cast in shadow, so he couldn't see her faint smirk.

"Cat got your tongue, Malfoy?" He blinked hard, the moment broken.

"I…the light…" he abruptly turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him, his eyes wide.

What just happened?


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hello, hello! Sorry for the delay, here is the short fourth chapter. It's merely a bridge, and I felt it was necessary for really getting into the guts of the story, or the twist :) Please review- I like hearing your opinion! Thanks, guys!

I DO NOT OWN- Everything you recognize belongs to JKR :)

Chapter Four- Sticks and Stones

Draco lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling above his head. The vision of Hermione laying in her own bed haunted him- she had struck him as beautiful in that moment. And, looking back, there had always been something that had drawn him to her. He had gone out of his way to insult her, make that fire blaze in her eyes.

It was like a child pulling the hair of the girl he had a crush on. Cruelty is attention, and unconsciously Draco had decided to take as much attention as possible, regardless of the kind.

The idea struck him hard, knocking the wind out of him in a whoosh of air. His silver eyes were closed, and the magnitude of his actions was suddenly overwhelming him.

He was attracted to the Gryffindor Princess?

The thought made him nauseous- how on _earth_ could he be attracted to that Mudblood? Draco knew that times had changed, but the change was fresh. Years of prejudice weighed heavily on the boy; he had eighteen years of witnessing his father's cruelty, spewing vile propaganda about halfbloods and muggleborns.

When that was the only example set for an impressionable young boy, what could be expected of him? His friends, their parents, his parents, everyone in his little world up until his first year at Hogwarts all said and thought the same thing- muggleborns were second-rate compared to purebloods. The world would be better without them.

Then, there was Hogwarts. At eleven, Draco saw that the world was not black and white like he had always thought. There were varying shades of gray, and the world became that much more complex for the boy. At home, he attempted to ask his father about these uncertainties, and was punished severely for his doubt.

"Purebloods are the only ones deserving to be called wizards. Those dirty Mudbloods steal their magic from real witches and wizards, and try to get as much recognition. Well, the scum don't even deserve to scrub the muck from the bottom of our boots- and it would do you well to remember that, boy."

Lucius had taken great pleasure in Draco's punishment that evening.

He hadn't been able to get out of bed for the next two days; Lucius didn't believe in using potions to heal beatings. Draco still could trace the scar on his shoulder blade from Lucius' dragonhide boots.

Draco dragged himself out of his thoughts when he heard movement in the kitchen on the other side of his closed door. Standing silently, he padded over and pulled the door back.

Hermione stood with her back to him, wearing loose lounge pants and a dark gray sweater that swallowed her slim frame. Her wild curls were braided, hanging long and straight down her back. She was humming softly, hugging herself as the coffee pot in front of her gurgled happily, releasing the wonderful smell of freshly ground coffee beans into the air.

Draco leaned against the doorframe, observing with thoughtful eyes. Her voice in the silence made him jump.

"Hungry?"

He cleared his throat and made his way over to her, resting his elbows on the counter next to her. She glanced over at him, still hugging herself.

"I should probably take those bandages off and check the wounds." She paused, and he glanced up to meet her eyes. "If you'll allow me to, that is, Lord Malfoy." Her voice was light, empty of intent and sarcasm, but there was something in her eyes that spoke volumes.

He had deeply hurt her feelings.

Something cold wriggled in his stomach, a feeling he had never experienced. Draco felt uncomfortable, and it confused him.

Why should he feel guilty? What did he do wrong? He was a product of malice and prejudice, he kept telling himself. Not his fault, he was raised this way.

A voice whispered _you could change if you wanted to._

Draco raised his eyes to Hermione's, watching her watch him. She was still hugging herself, the dark sweater hanging to mid-thigh, loose curls hanging in her face. Her eyes were soft, guarded. He signed and took a step over to the stove, running a hand along the countertop.

"I would appreciate that." He held out his hand to her, and felt an electric current run the length of his arm to his navel when she grasped it. Her slim fingers slowly unwrapped the gauze bandages; soon they had fallen away and his hand, pink with new skin, was clearly visible.

Hermione examined it, her eyes narrowed in concentration. "Looks good." She concluded, and reached for the bandage wrapped around is ribcage. Draco flinched as her fingers grazed his stomach, and Hermione felt heat rise to her face. She hurriedly unraveled the bandages, pulling away immediately.

"Your ribs are still bruised, I couldn't heal them completely." She said it apologetically, looking up to meet his eyes. "You're healing very quickly, which is good." She looked away, playing with the wrappings in her hands, twisting them absently.

Clearing her throat, she snapped out of her daze and moved to the trash to throw the used bandages out. "Uh, how about some breakfast?" she asked, swiftly moving to the cabinets and began pulling utensils and pots out.

Draco agreed silently, sitting down gracefully at the small table. He watched her move, mesmerized in the way she floated about the kitchen. _It's merely a physical reaction,_ he reasoned, _due to being confined to this apartment with only her._

At least, that's what he told himself.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Here is the LONG awaited chapter five- I'm so sorry, everything got so busy!

JKR owns everything you see and recognize. :)

Chapter Five- World War Redeux

After the silent breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and bacon, Hermione made her way into her bathroom, leaning over the sink as the shower ran, steam beginning to fill the small room. Flipping on the overhead fan absently, she began to undo her braid, her mind on a certain blonde Slytherin currently on the other side of the apartment.

His words had hurt her, she could easily admit that. His cruelty had always had an effect on her; if she was being completely honest with herself, _he_ had always had an effect on her.

When he walked into a classroom she would always catch herself holding her breath, her eyes following him to his seat. She tried to tell herself it was a defensive move, even as she studies the way he walks, notices how the light catches his hair, making it shine white.

She cannot deny the warmth that suddenly rushed into her belly as she looked at his wounds, her hands gently caressing his ribcage and his hand. It was simply a reaction, she had told herself. _You have never been that close to him before, and it was a shock._

Even as she thought those words, she knew it was a lie.

There had always been something about Draco Malfoy that caused her breath to catch, her heart to begin to race, and her face to flush.

Blinking, Hermione came back to the present, noticing the steam completely filling the bathroom. She quickly finishes up her shower, wondering how long she had been lost in thought.

Toweling off, she slipped out the door and headed quickly to her bedroom, noticing the spare room (currently housing her gorgeous houseguest) was ajar. Narrowing her eyes, she was wondering where he could be when suddenly she ran smack into a warm, hard chest.

Losing her balance, she fell sideways, struggling to keep her towel tight around her thin form. As she sprawled ungracefully on the carpet, Draco stood over her and chuckled. Ignoring the strange warmth expanding his chest, he smirked down at Hermione, who was struggling to sit up and attempting to push her wet curls out of her face. She looked sheepishly up at him, a blush staining her porcelain cheeks.

Her eyes widened in surprise as a slim hand was held out to her; she took it and was gently helped to her feet, brown meeting gray.

"Are you alright?" His voice was surprisingly soft, his eyes showing no outward emotion. Hermione nodded, mesmerized by the blonde man that stood before her, still holding hands.

Her skin was tingling. Was this really happening? Was _Draco Malfoy_ being _friendly_ with her? She must be dreaming. "I'm sorry I ran into you." Her voice was almost a whisper, never taking her gaze from his. The blush on her cheeks became more pronounced.

Distantly Hermione heard a door opening, only ripping her gaze from Draco's when she heard two very angry voices.

"_Get away from her!_"

"What the bloody hell?"

Suddenly Hermione remembered why she had hopped in the shower: Harry and Ron were coming over to take her to Diagon Alley to run some errands. She quickly dropped the pale hand that was still in hers, and, shooting Draco an apologetic look, she hitched her towel up, tightening her hold, and rounded on her two best friends.

"Boys! What gives you the right to come in here and act as if you own the place?" She narrowed her eyes as a pair of green eyes looked down sheepishly, a hint of a smile appearing; blue eyes met her defiantly, mouth set in a sneer, red tingeing his freckled cheeks.

"Well, what the hell should we think when that bloody prat is in your house, touching you, and you are in a towel?" Ron snapped, unable to keep his eyes from wandering.

Hermione glared. "I can take care of myself, as I have spent the past seven years of my life proving to you, Ronald Weasley!" She stamped her foot, one hand on her hip, the other gripping her towel fiercely.

"For your information, I was heading from the shower to my bedroom to change to meet you two prats, when I fell and Draco helped me up. Now, if it is _okay _with you, I am going to get dressed. Excuse me." She huffed, and turned on her heel, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

The three boys stood there awkwardly, Draco with a blank expression, Harry with a slight smile, and Ron, who glared at Draco.

Harry broke the silence. "How are you feeling, Malfoy?" Green met gray before Draco cleared his throat, looking away.

"I feel better." He paused. "Thank you for killing that scum." Harry watched him curiously.

"Well, isn't that sweet. The Death Eater trying to cover his tracks." Ron's voice was harsh, filling the room with tension. Harry turned to give his friend a warning glare, which he promptly ignored. "What your father did to you wasn't enough. Hermione never should have saved you, she should have left you to rot in that house."

His words struck Draco in the chest; the need to sit down became a necessity as his knees collapsed and the soft armchair broke his fall.

"Ron." Harry's voice, signaling he had gone too far. Ron, his arms crossed, his expression one you would see on a petulant child. "It's the truth, Harry! The world would be so much better without Malfoys infesting it. They cause pain, nothing else." He spat the last, his eyes hard as ice.

" Ronald, get the hell out of my house." Her voice was steel, her eyes just as hard.

The man in question started, his eyes widening, finding the slim brunette.

She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a simple green cardigan, arms crossed over her chest. "Hermione, I-"

"Save it." Her tone was finality; Harry noticed the anger in the depths of her eyes, glancing nervously at Ron before taking a seat next to Draco. "Don't say a word." He whispered the advice to his Slytherin classmate, who glanced at the Boy Who Lived, nodding swiftly.

Ron was doomed.

"How _dare_ you come into _my_ house and boss _my_ guest around! How _dare_ you say horrible things to a boy who has seen more horrors than you have ever heard about? Ronald Bilius Weasley, I don't know who you think you are, but you have no authority here, no say in what I do, and no right to belittle and hurt someone else just because of his last name, and his past!"

Ron was red, his eyes blazing. "Hermione, he is a Death Eater! He had his hands all over you, and what am I supposed to do about that?"

Hermione let out a screech. "NOTHING RON! You do nothing; I do not belong to you, we are not, nor will we ever date! Now GET OUT!"

Ron glared at her and spun around, marching to the door and slamming it behind him. Hermione warded the door, mumbling the spell under her breath.

Harry cleared his throat, making Hermione jump. "Uh, maybe we should postpone this trip for another day…"

She snorted, shaking her head as a laugh escaped her throat. She shook and nearly fell over in the process, her thin body trembling. Her eyes were bright with tears and a smile was on her face as she looked back over to the boys seated on the couch, watching her as if she was crazy.

"Ahh," she wiped at her eyes as she seated herself between Harry and Draco, "there's no need to postpone the trip over silly Ron. There's a book I need to get, and I desperately need some more parchment."

She smiled at Harry. "If you don't want to go, I understand. Draco and I can go by ourselves."

Harry shook his head. "No Mione, we can go. I would subject Malfoy to wandering around Flourish and Blotts for hours with you." He smiled at her, and she returned the smile.

Hermione turned to Draco thoughtfully. "We also need to get you some clothes."

Harry grinned. "Luckily I thought ahead and brought some clothes he can borrow." He held up a bag and shrugged. "You may have to alter them a bit, he is taller than me."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Oh my goodness, I know, I'M SO SORRY! It's been too long, and this chapter isn't long... :( If I was being completely honest, I would have to say I am losing my vision for this story- I have a million things going on, and can't keep track of anything! Anyone have any ideas that they would love to see played out? I would love to hear what you guys think should happen next. I am also not planning on this story being super long, and already am entertaining an idea for another story... :) One at a time!

Anyways, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE AMAZING REVIEWS! It does well for my heart (and ego) to see all the wonderful things you all wrote to me. :)

ebm56- I was so surprised when you reviewed, because I have been reading the stories out of your favorite's list for the past few weeks! You are fantastic, and so sweet! :)

karmonblake- Thank you! Glad you like the Harry/Draco relationship. I know they've always been enemies, yada yada yada, but in my story, I wanted Draco to be so shaken up by the war and the loss of EVERYTHING that he realized what was important and really changed. :)

LadyNorth76, personofnoconcern3000- THANK YOU for the kind words :) I'm sorry I didn't update sooner, I really wish I had!

Now that you all know how extremely thankful I am for the feedback, onto the main event!

And don't forget to review for this chapter! :)

JKR owns everything. FYI.

Chapter Six- The Difficulty of Naming Chapters

After casting a lengthening charm on the jeans, Draco pulled them on, surprised at the way they fit. Slipping the black tee shirt over his head, he ran a hand through his hair and made his way back into the living room to where Harry and Hermione were sitting, their heads close together, speaking in quiet tones.

Draco watched the two of them together, a pang of envy hammering around inside his ribcage. He couldn't tell if his reaction was because of the fact he had no relationship that resembled Harry and Hermione's friendship, or if it was jealousy at how close Harry was sitting to her.

His eyes met hers as she turned, something fiery in their depths. Draco marveled at how open her eyes were; he could see every emotion she felt in a moment in those big doe eyes. It made him warm to think she let him in, let him see her as she really was.

Harry stood, the movement breaking their eye contact. Hermione blinked quickly and stood as well, smoothing her shirt and twisting her curly hair around a finger. Harry smiled tentatively at Draco. "Ready to go, Malfoy?"

Draco recognized Harry's olive branch, and after a moment's hesitation, decided to accept. It would be nice to have some kind of relationship with someone real. This was his last chance.

He nodded, meeting Hermione's eyes again. She smiled at him, a smile that lit up the entire room. She really was beautiful, and in that moment Draco knew something was stirring in the depths of his heart, something he had never felt before this moment.

They flooed to the Leaky Cauldron, greeted with the familiar sight of Tom wiping the bar down; he glanced up when they appeared, and grinned broadly when he saw Harry and Hermione. "Mr. Potter and Miss Granger! How are you two doin'?"

Harry and Hermione smiled and went through the usual pleasantries with Tom. Draco zoned out and let his eyes wander the homey pub. It was smaller than he remembered, but he hadn't been here since his second year. He had always thought of the Leaky Cauldron as a dirty place for old, toothless wizards to come get drunk, but being there after the war Draco saw a completely different place.

The room was dimly lit, with only a few patrons at this hour. Most were eating an early lunch, with no alcohol in sight. A small child played on the hearth by the cheery fire, while his mother (Draco assumed) was writing a letter at the table nearby, pausing to glance at her son and smile fondly.

Draco was snapped out of his thoughts by a small, warm hand slipping into his. He looked down quickly, tensing, when he saw Hermione's bright eyes looking at him curiously.

"Draco, are you alright?" Her thumb suddenly stroked the back of his hand, and he quickly took a step back, breaking the contact. He swallowed, unsure of what Hermione was doing. "I'm fine, Granger." He replied shortly, his eyes moving to Harry's face, who was watching the exchange thoughtfully.

Hermione pulled her hand to her chest, her eyes clouding for a second before they cleared; something in them was different, Draco noticed. She turned on her heel and started walking out the back door, towards the brick wall. "Good, then let's get moving. I've got errands to run." Her voice was firm, with only a slight waver at the end.

Her wand moved quickly over the correct bricks, and soon she was walking through the entryway of Diagon Alley, Harry and Draco following.

Harry's green eyes were serious when he looked at Draco, walking beside him. "You hurt her feelings, you know." Harry shook his head. "You're on your own, Malfoy. Hermione doesn't need my help anymore when it comes to this." With that, Harry caught up to Hermione, asking her where she was heading first.

Draco felt confused. What had Harry meant with that cryptic message? Okay, she he had hurt her feelings. What was he supposed to do, apologize? Malfoys just don't do that; they were above such things! _You're the last Malfoy_ a voice whispered, _you can do whatever you want._

He did want to fix this. If Draco was completely honest with himself, there was something about Hermione Granger, Gryffindor know-it-all and friend to the Boy Who Lived. He had always felt drawn to her, and the fact that his father wanted him to keep an eye on Harry Potter helped him cover up his interest in his bushy-haired friend.

Being a muggleborn, Draco was immediately upset about his awareness of the girl in school. He tried being cruel, keeping up appearances and attempting to rid himself of these un-Malfoyish feelings, to no avail.

It wasn't a crush or an attraction during Hogwarts, more of an urge to know her better. Their differences were just too great, and his pride too monstrous, so Draco was horrible to her and her friends. He had to deny himself what he wanted, which was very rare (Malfoys always get what they want) and was incredibly frustrated.

The war had taken a lot out of him.

And now, after school, he had been saved by his secret obsession, was currently residing in her home, and was becoming increasingly attracted to her.

Draco felt as if he was spiraling out of control.


	7. Chapter 7

Hello, all! I am so proud of myself for writing this- I think I have beaten the writer's block! This chapter is a little reward for all the wonderful reviews I have been receiving- hope you enjoy it! :) It isn't too long, and some of you may think it's a little too quick, but I felt the characters pulling me in this direction.

Let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I STILL don't own :( Maybe one day...

**Chapter Seven- Fix**

Draco Malfoy felt like an idiot.

Why was it that as soon as he realized what this fluttery feeling in his stomach was every time he looked at Hermione he had to muck _everything_ up?

He knew he had hurt her feelings, he had seen that flash of pain in her brown eyes as he had pulled away from her. He knew she had pure intentions; that heart of hers was definitely worn on her sleeve, and her face was clouded with the rejection she felt.

He had to apologize. Better yet, he wanted to apologize.

Unbeknownst to him, a certain curly haired bookworm was thinking along the same lines.

Hermione had come to see there was an attraction there, between the Slytherin Prince and the Gryffindor Princess, one she couldn't seem to fight. The rejection had overwhelmed her when he had physically stepped away from her, yanking his hand out of her grasp. She couldn't hide the pain that had flashed through her chest, surprisingly strong. So, she did the next best thing: she ignored it.

Walking a step ahead of Harry and Draco, Hermione headed to Flourish and Blotts to stock up on the parchment she needed, as well as a new quill or two. On the short journey there, her mind was traveling a mile a minute.

She knew the terrors Draco had undergone. She knew the horrors and the pain he had gone through. Doubt began to filter into her mind; what if she was overreacting? Physical contact could be something for him to need to adjust to, and who is to say that Draco Malfoy had ever been one to engage in casual touches?

She reminded herself that her relationship with her best friends was rare; most people didn't hug and kiss like Hermione and Harry and the Weasleys did.

The guilt rushed into her belly, making her steps falter. Harry caught her arm, whispering in her ear.

"Mione, are you alright? You nearly fell there."

She nodded, not meeting the concerned green eyes that were watching her carefully. "Just thinking, Harry." She sighed and shook her head. "I think I overreacted."

Harry's eyes darkened in understanding. "There's an easy way to fix that." He said it so softly that Hermione was unsure she really heard it. Harry opened the store's door, a bell chiming loudly in the silent shop.

Hermione headed to the parchment, her eyes unseeing, her fingers touching the paper reverently. She had to work up enough courage to apologize to the boy- _no, the man_ her mind corrected, _the gorgeous man who reformed and is staying with you_-

Hermione shook her head violently. She had to get her thoughts under control. Before she could focus on her task, she felt someone behind her. Whipping around, her eyes widened as she saw who was there.

Draco was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw Hermione stumble. Harry made it to her first, whispering softly in her ear, so softly that he couldn't hear what was said. Frowning slightly, he crossed his arms, determined to ignore the jealousy that suddenly bubbled in his chest.

No point in being jealous; Hermione was a single, eligible, gorgeous- _no!_ He shook his head violently. His mind wanted to revolt, and he saw her in his mind's eye, curly hair splayed out on dark silk sheets, her eyes dark with desire…

Draco shivered, struggling to think of something else. _Concentrate on the guilt_ he thought, and suddenly the nauseous feeling was back. He immediately regretted his decision; daydreaming about Hermione was much better than feeling ill.

He noticed they made it to Flourish and Blotts, and mutely followed the two inside. Harry shot him a meaningful look before darting off in the opposite direction of Hermione. Draco sighed and followed her.

She was absently fingering parchment when he caught up to her. She spun around quickly, her eyes widening slightly before she blushed violently. Draco felt a twinge in his chest; she looked so adorable with color in her cheeks.

"Hermione, I-"

"Draco, please-"

They both laughed nervously as they interrupted each other. Draco scratched the back of his head, saying, "Go ahead, Hermione. You first."

Hermione took a deep breath, pushing back her attraction to the man in front of her- he was so cute when he looked vulnerable- and quickly made up her mind to apologize.

"Draco, I am sorry. I realized after the fact that touching you may not have been the best idea, especially after what you've been through. Please forgive me." Her eyes were pleading, even as she stood there stiffly.

Draco shook his head. "No, Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pull away, and it wasn't intentional to hurt your feelings. I was just startled, but I never meant to make you feel rejected. I could never do that to you." He paled slightly as he realized what he said, hoping the smartest witch of their age would overlook his slip.

Of course, she caught it, and filed it away for further inspection later. Hermione was suddenly aware of how close they were standing. As they had talked, she had backed up until her back was against the shelves of parchment, and Draco was mere inches away. Her eyes flickered from his own gray orbs to his pale lips and back again, blushing furiously when she realized what she had just done.

"Uh, I forgive you Draco, as long as you forgive me." She whispered it, but her voice screamed through the sudden tension. Draco nodded, his throat suddenly parched. He had the sudden urge to raise his hand and cup her porcelain cheek, her thumb aching to run over those rosebud lips.

He was suddenly aware of everything; they were both breathing heavily, her eyes wide and darker than normal, her lips were slightly parted, teasing him to make a move.

Draco unconsciously leaned in closer, and Hermione closed her eyes, willing him silently to kiss her. She let her hand grip the pocket on his jeans, pulling him closer. Draco let out a soft growl, making Hermione shiver. He raised his hand to cup her face, his thumb so close to her lips…

"Hermione! Where are you?" Harry's voice made them spring apart, Hermione's eyes wide, Draco still breathing hard.

She swallowed and answered The Boy Who Lived shakily, "Just a second, Harry, I've almost chosen, then we can go get some ice cream." She turned her eyes onto Draco, looking unsure. "Uh…"

Draco struggled to regain control, fighting with his body. "Hermione, I…" He shook his head. "What is going on with me?" he muttered, running a hand roughly through his hair.

Hermione sighed, and met his eyes. "I was wondering the same thing, Draco." She studied him intently. "I'm not sure what I feel, or how to react to this." She shook her head. "I've never felt this before."

Draco nodded absently, bringing a hand to his lips unconsciously. "Me neither."

Hermione felt heat in her belly as she watched Draco, biting her lip hard. Clearing her throat, she turned around and blindly grabbed some parchment, choosing two quills as well, and turned back to him.

"Maybe we should continue this later?" She asked shyly, blushing as she stared at her shoes, twilling the quills in her fingers.

Draco nodded, putting a hand on her chin and making her look at him. "Yes, I think I would love to." He smiled nervously, feeling slightly more confident when she returned his smile.

She poked him in the chest then turned around, heading for the register where Harry was waiting. Draco took a moment to catch his breath, wondering why he felt so at peace with what just happened.

Sure, he wasn't as prejudiced anymore, but he had the occasional slip-up. Being raised as fanatically as he was leaves a mark, one that would take many years to erase. He felt indebted to Hermione for saving him; could that be why he felt this way about her? Some twisted savior complex?

Maybe he was getting a little ahead of himself. After all, how long had he been stuck with Hermione Granger, three days? Probably longer, but he could only remember two days prior to this one. Sure, she was pretty, but most girls were. She was smart, yes, but anyone could be.

She was muggleborn; that right there should be enough to get Draco to turn around. He didn't understand where these intense emotions were coming from, and it confused the hell out of him. What was he supposed to think?

He heard Harry calling for him and, on autopilot, caught up to them at the door and followed them back onto the street, still absorbed in his thoughts.

He missed Hermione glancing at him then turning to whisper something to Harry. He missed Harry's answering nod and grin; the next thing Draco knew, he was standing in front of the newly refurbished Ollivander's. Blinking, he looked around, confused.

"Why are we here? Didn't you say something about ice cream?"

Hermione smiled gently, opening the door and motioning him inside. "Well, it won't do for you to not have a wand, will it?"

Draco froze in the shop's threshold, looking at her intently. "I have no money for a wand." He voice sounded sad, even to himself.

Harry shook his head. "No worried, Malfoy, Hermione wants to get one for you."

She nodded, smiling encouragingly. "You need one, and I have plenty of galleons to spend." To prove it, she jangled her purse.

Draco felt his heart swell, the ice thawing. _Was she always this nice?_ He couldn't imagine how someone he tortured for _years_ would be willing to buy him a brand new wand? Sure, he desperately wanted one, his heart aching for his old wand.

Twenty minutes later, Draco Malfoy had a brand new wand: fourteen inches, ebony wood, unicorn hair. The wand fit his hand perfectly. Glancing at Hermione, their eyes met, and she sent him the most brilliant smile he had ever seen, stunning him.

In that moment, Draco knew he was falling for Hermione; there was no stopping it. She was imprinting herself onto his heart and he had no intention of stopping her.

A/N: I LOVE the last sentence :) And I love you, readers!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Hello, all! Chapter eight, here for your viewing pleasure! I hope you all enjoy, and don't throw rotten fruit at me- I know it was late, but I have a feeling you'll like this one! ;)

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING!

**Chapter Eight- Name MIA**

Draco Malfoy sat on his borrowed bed, in his borrowed clothes, and gazed reverently at his brand new wand, a gift from former enemies. He was still in shock; why had she bought him a wand? And not only a wand, she had also shoved an ice cream cone in his face while he was still struck dumb.

No one had ever done something so nice to him, not ever in his entire life. His parents had spoiled him, sure, but they had the money to do it, and they used toys and objects to keep him busy and out of their hair. That was the way Pureblood families raised their young- spoiled them and passed them off to their house elves.

Never in Draco's life had anyone given him anything without an ulterior motive. Never, that is, until today.

The gratitude he felt threatened to overwhelm him suddenly. So much had changed in such a short time. Draco felt the world was upside down sometimes, and it unnerved him.

What was real? The kindness Hermione Granger and Harry Potter showed him that morning, or the slurs his family had taught him for so long?

_Your father tried to kill you, idiot! _A voice said to him, _what other proof do you need?_

_It's hard, turning your back on everything you knew, even when you know it's the right thing to do_ he reasoned. _I just need something to snap. I just need to _know_ which direction is the right one._

Draco sighed, flopping backwards onto the bed, idly waving his wand, golden sparks flying out of the tip.

He closed his eyes and imagined a different life: one where he had been loved and tended to by parents, not house elves, one where he had enjoyed school and had good friends, one where he was in a relationship with a beautiful girl, buying her a ring, kissing her on their wedding day, her belly swollen with their first child, a girl that looked just like her, with brown eyes and curly hair…

He wasn't sure how long he lay there, a few minutes or a few hours, but there was suddenly a soft knock at the door. "It's open." His voice sounded rough to his ears.

Hermione opened the door, smiling when she saw him. "You love that wand, don't you?"

"Yeah, it was a nice surprise." A pause. "Thank you again, for buying it. I owe you seven galleons, Granger."

She snorted. "Don't be silly. Think of it as a gift, a welcome present." She shook her head. "I'm only sorry we couldn't salvage your original wand. It must be strange to have a new one."

"This one feels about the same, but yes, there are subtle differences. I think I will like adjusting to this one, though."

Gray eyes met brown, blush alighted on cheeks and the connection was broken. Hermione studied her shoes, waiting for her flaming face to fade. Draco's soft chuckle broke the silence, making her eyes snap up to his face. His eyes were bright, something in them that she had never seen, never noticed before.

He looked… almost happy.

The thought pulled at her heart, making her want to cry. She felt sorrow for this man, this lost little boy. He had nothing his entire life, no family, no true friends, no love. How was that possible?

How was it that this beautiful boy in front of her had never experience the joys in life as she herself had? She had caught the surprise in his face numerous times over the last few weeks, when she had been making breakfast, curled up on the couch with a book, laughing at something on the television, or singing as she folded her laundry.

Every time she had surprised him, he had this look of confusion, soft and unfocused, on his face. And every single time, this strong urge to hold him, soothe his hurt and make him happy.

This prompted Hermione to recall their attraction, and the incident that occurred earlier that day. As if she hadn't been thinking about it all afternoon, and his reaction in Ollivander's. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his warm, sweet breath on her face, feel the warmth from his thumb as if moved to touch her lip… Wait, she could feel his thumb on her lip.

Pulling her eyes open, she blinked, mere inches away from those steel gray eyes. When had he moved? Her brain got a little fuzzy has his hand moved to caress her cheek, the fingers both rough and soft at the same time.

Her eyes closing of their own volition, she unconsciously leaned into his touch as he tugged gently on her earlobe, bringing his hand down to her chin.

"Hermione."

His voice was soft, the desire he felt an underlying current, hard as steel and sharp as flint. She let out a soft mewl in response to her name, shivering at the effect he had on her. _And just with his voice!_

She opened her eyes just in time to see Draco tip his head down to meet hers, and suddenly his cheek was caressing hers, the skin rough where he hadn't shaved. Goosebumps covered her body, and Hermione took an unconscious step forward, pressing her body lightly into his.

Draco's eyes popped open, his breath coming out between his teeth in a hiss. Her eyelashes had been driving him crazy, tickling his face, but when she leaned into him, leaning her soft body into his…

Groaning softly, Draco took a step back, his breathing labored. Hermione's eyes opened, looking unfocused, closing again as he pressed a soft kiss onto her cheek, soothing the redness from his whiskers.

"Hermione." His voice was pleading.

She looked at him, her eyes understanding.

"Draco, it's okay." Her hand slipped into his. "I understand."

He ran a hand violently through his silver hair, frowning.

"No, I feel bad. I should explain-"

"Don't." Her voice was firm. "Please. I understand why you pulled away."

A sigh was her only response.

"I don't understand where this attraction came from." She laughed, a lilting sound. "I mean, we are polar opposites. This war was brought us together."

He shrugged, cupping her face, running his thumb along her jaw line. "I know it did. I feel so different than I used to." He laughed harshly. "I was raised that this, the way I feel, touching you like this, hell touching you at all, would have been a sufficient reason to be punished by my father."

Hermione felt the tears running down her face before she knew she was crying.

Draco tutted softly, wiping them away with his forefinger, his eyes softening. They held a haunted look, the same reflection they had held when she found him, broken and bleeding in the dungeon of his own home.

"You have had such a hard life." She whispered, twisting her fingers in the edge of his shirt, looking up to meet his eyes. Another tear slipped out, landing on her cheek, and without thinking Draco leaned down to kiss it off.

As he pulled back, she brought her hand up to caress his face, her eyes full of emotion as she gazed into his. "What can I do?" Her voice broke, her heart breaking. "How can I save you? I don't want to lose you, I want you to heal." She smiled a little smile, her eyes soft. "How can I help?"

Draco felt his heart break at her words. She was pleading with him to let her help him. A sudden revelation hit him.

Hermione Granger cared enough for him, Draco Malfoy- the Slytherin Prince, the nasty boy that called her horrible names throughout school, that made her and her friends' lives a living hell- that she would do anything to help him.

_She said she didn't want to lose you._

Unbidden, tears filled his eyes, and the next thing he knew, he was bending down, pressing his lips to hers, gripping her shoulders, her arms around his neck. Her lips were soft, warm against his, her slim body molded into his, sending jolts of electricity into his chest, gripping his heart.

Her kisses were so sweet; simple, blowing through him like a gentle breeze, filling him to the brim, then leaving him with a content feeling.

Draco pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, their eyes closed, their breathing in sync.

He opened his eyes to find her watching him, her lips swollen, her eyes bright. When she spoke, he laughed aloud.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting to do that?"

Pssst! So, what do you think? Good? Needed something else? Let me know: **review!** I have two paths that this story could go down- the question is, which would you prefer? I could always write an alternate ending as a one-shot... Okay, option one is short- one or two chapters more. Option two is wayyy longer- I add a twist and write, oh, I don't know, a million more chapters. Okay, not really a million, but a lot more than one or two! I think I have already decided, but I kinda wanted to know what you preferred: anyone sick of this story? haha!


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